Six weeks ago I was asked to leave my entire-life-encompassing job at an art gallery. After 4.5 weeks of extreme depression, I decided that this time of not working- the first time in nearly 15 years, was something I will want to remember. (be it good or bad)
After I decided that leaving my house was a good idea, I've been spending a lot of time wandering around New York. I'm trying to save money by walking to and from Manhattan, which somehow gives me a sense of accomplishment...and weird validation.
And now another thing to feel a sense of purpose...
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